Remember Me
by LoveforthegameBR
Summary: Ebony, a girl searching to start over amidst the war, falls into the hands of snatchers. Scabior takes a special liking to her and things begin to spiral out of control for the both of them. Scabior/OC Rated M.
1. Introductions

**Title: Remember Me.**

**Chapter I: The Hunter & the Hunted, Part I**

**Rated: M for future chapters which include; sex, some cussing & some violence.**

**Disclaimer; I unfortunately own nothing from the HP universe. I don't own Scabior, which is even more unfortunate.**

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_This is a re-write of an old fanfiction of mine, one that has had A LOT of work done to become much better. Once under the name of: "You're Mine."_

_I've been wanting to come back and take it down to re-edit for quite some time, and finally I have. _

_This is just a simple introduction to say that this fanfiction, although almost completely new and entirely re-written, might spark some memories of that of my older one (assuming anyone has read it). _

_Although I have thought of just deleting and forgetting about writing anything for the Scabior fan section; the very small amount of followers/watchers I've gained from speaking of re-writing this has fuelled me to go ahead._

_So to anyone of those people who have added me to their author list, or added "You're Mine", thank you. Thank you so much. I've been keeping watch over it, and it really brings me joy to see people actually like my writing and want more. _

_I hope it's enjoyable and I would just like to ask one thing of you, as a reader._

_Please try to review and let me know your opinions. If my fanfictions don't get many reviews after a certain amount of chapters, I tend to lose interest in them. So please let me know if you're liking/disliking this so I can have some input. _

_So without any thing else to add; here it is-_


	2. The Hunter & the Hunted, Part I

**Title: Remember Me.**

**Chapter I: The Hunter & the Hunted, Part I**

**Rated: M for future chapters including; sex, some cussing, and some violence.**

**Disclaimer; I unfortunately own nothing from the HP universe. I don't own Scabior, which is even more unfortunate.**

** AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

Scabior moved swiftly through the woods with natural ease, having already become accustomed to his current surroundings in the forest. The group of snatchers had set up camp only a couple of days ago, but the woods had felt easily navigated, since he had walked through them many times in these past two days. He moved about in an almost bored manner, ducking in and out of bushes and trees, his pack of men following behind. They were considerably slower than Scabior, as they travelled with bundles of objects and bags.

Scabior preferred not to do the lifting, he would much rather let his men do that while he lead them, serving as a guide and a leader. He was far more advanced as a leader than any of the men, so it was his job to play the guide. It also made him look dominate, a nice plus.

Today was a considerably good day. It had been spent searching through the forest, sniffing out Mudbloods and traitors alike. Today they had found luck and caught two blood-traitors. Two young boys, both around Hogwarts age. They hadn't put up much of a fight, a few hexes and laughable jinxes were all they could come up with when squared into battle with the gang of feral looking men.

It was a good lot and it'd be worth a lot to hand in. There was a prideful smirk on Scabior's face as he led them back to the camp, completely content with the days work.

Honestly, it'd been a while since he'd had any good catches. It was becoming increasingly difficult to afford the essentials. The men around camp were starting to get restless with the lesser amounts of food each day, complaining they needed more, that the amounts weren't satisfying enough. They never seemed to want to work for it, which annoyed Scabior greatly. They were; in his opinion, a bunch of lazy credit taking men. Scabior who loved his job, thought it hard to have to deal with people like them. He loved the thrill and the rewards that came with his line of work. So when his men showed no interest, it made him incredibly irritated, especially when they tried to chip their names in when pay came.

As of late his normally exciting job was lacking much of the excitement. It seemed as if there was no one to snatch, no one would dared venture too far into a deserted places like this, mostly terrified of the stories that had spread. Stories of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's servants and helpers hiding out and attacking all those who tried to run. Most people didn't see the point in hiding, or running. The rule of the Dark Lord had drained all hope completely, leaving nothing but empty shells of people in empty and hollow places.

Still, it was better than Azkaban, Scabior knew for a fact. The numbered tattoo on his neck almost itched just thinking of the horrors he had faced upon imprisonment in there. The screams of cell members, the hollowness of his own cell and most of all, the constant watch of the Dementors. _Bloody disgusting things,_ Scabior thought sourly.

He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind, where they belonged. Things were different now, everything was changing and if he had any say in it, it was for the better. Now he was a free man. He could come and go as he pleased, he didn't need to hide in fear of being thrown back into Azkaban. Any sane man in his position would have liked it better this way.

The Ministry had been paying plenty for unwilling mudbloods and traitors. Lately, however, there were none to offer up. Most people weren't hiding in woods or deserted areas any more, knowing of their fates if they were to be snatched up. A lot of people have even handed themselves in, thinking it would be the safer option, wiser even. Then, there was also the fact that most of them gave up straight away, all hope falling as they spot a band of snatchers coming their way.

_No fun whatsoever._

As he trudged on through the familiar woods, a minor noise caught him off guard. It was faint, but audible. The crunch of a small twig, most probably from someone crushing it beneath their shoes as they walked.

It wasn't a noise made by his men, but something closer to the West. He turned and steadily stepped over a murky patch of muddied water.

That's when he smelt something, something very out of place. He made a sudden halt and the men behind him came to a stop, looking slightly unnerved. Scabior sniffed at the air, his head tilted to the side as he tried to trace the smell.

"What is it?"

He wondered briefly whether he was imaging the scent of something so sweet and enticing.

"What's that?" Scabior asked, more to himself than anyone.

It was barely detectable, but still it was there. An almost undetectable smell of vanilla, rich and sweetly.

Running his hands through his mess of tangled hair, he raised his hand into the air; almost as if to reach out and touch something. But feeling through the air, he only felt nothingness.

"What's that smell?"

His right hand was extended, raising slowly into the air. He could sense something lingering right there, in front of him..._ something_...

**_THUD._**

Alarmed, he turned around to see a small girl laying on the ground, unconscious. The man who was holding her only moments before, was now looking down at her, as if she would rise up and jump back into his arms herself.

"What're you doing?" Scabior growled.

The man gave him a frightened look, mumbled an excuse about the girl being heavy and looked down hastily.

Scabior breathed in and put a hand in his pocket. Sometimes he wondered just _how_ the Ministry thought some men would be valuable assets as snatchers.

It was through his preoccupation with his thoughts that the smell had vanished without his notice. It took him a few more seconds of breathing in the once sweetened air to realize that it had disappeared completely.

He felt disappointed and irritated. He sniffed hopefully at the air once more, but was met with nothing. He sighed and signalled his men to keep moving.

While moving back to camp, he couldn't help but ponder on the thought of what that smell had been, or more importantly where it had come from.

It was obviously vanilla; some type of perfume. It had the scent of a something you'd smell indoors, artificial. There was no way it had been a natural smell in the woods. It was far too out of place among the pine and thickets. There had to be someone wearing it, it must have been perfume. He couldn't place it as anything else.

The smell was so vivid in his mind and it felt... _bothersome_.

_Who_ was that smell coming from? He hadn't seen the slightest trace of anyone there, even in the slight darkness. The texture of the smell was so sweet that if he was right (he had to be, when were his instincts ever wrong?) than it was a woman's.

It was a woman's scent, a woman's perfume. The thought almost made him grin.

He couldn't wait to find her.


	3. The Hunter & the Hunted, Part II

**Title: Remember Me.**

**Chapter I: The Hunter & the Hunted, Part II**

**Rated: M for future chapters including; sex, some cussing, and some violence.**

**Disclaimer: I unfortunately own nothing from the HP universe. I don't own Scabior, which is even more unfortunate.**

**Author's Note:** _The last chapter was very short and dull, and I apologize for that. Hopefully this'll be more enjoyable. The chapters are going to be a lot longer than the first, although not too long. I prefer updating more regularly and having slightly shorter chapters. I'm going to set out the scenes, setting it up for future chapters in these III parts. Remember; REVIEW xxx_

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Days had passed since the night in the forest and Scabior continued with his now less then enjoyable job of snatching. There was no increase in captures and the days seemed to drag on slowly. They would be leaving the area soon, moving on to other places and beginning the search in new areas. They had stayed here long enough, too long even. It was strange, but for some reason he couldn't quite bring himself to decide to move on. In the back of his mind he knew why, but tried to ignore the itching feeling of yearning.

But he couldn't.

He still hadn't forgotten about that night in the forest... _That_ scent. It lingered in his mind still, nagging for his full attention. That beautiful scent of vanilla, so out of place among the smell of pine and oak.

There was a slight twitch in his stomach as he thought about it and how he had failed to capture something so sweet, so appealing. He disregarded the feeling as soon as it had come. It wasn't something he wanted to dwell on, it wasn't as if he could have reached out and taken the smell. Although he knew it wasn't the smell that had been nagging at him so fully, it was the owner of it.

And there _had_ been an owner. He had convinced himself of this already, from day one.

It annoyed him to no end, knowing that something had been out there, something so appealing to him, but he wasn't able to find it. He had thought through all the possibilities, all the ways he would have caught it, caught her. _Should of, would of, could of,_ he thought sourly.

He'd often kick himself for not staying longer that night, not looking further into the woods. Maybe if he did, then something would of come of it. Maybe he would of caught his new obsession.

But he would catch her. Because for all the moments he had thought it useless to dwell on something of the past, there was moments when he'd convince himself that it wasn't the past, and she was still out there. In those moments he'd often get a snag of hope peeling through the sides of denial. Then yesterday, he had come across something.

Yesterday he would of sworn that he had smelt it again, lingering in the air. He searched every bush, every tree and every speck of the area, finding nothing. Even though he didn't catch anything, the thought of doing so filled him with excitement. She could still be here in these woods, how else would he have picked up her scent again? He must admit, he had after some days, convinced himself he was looking for a ghost and lessened his searches, but now he was sure. After smelling the vanilla scent again, he was determined.

The next day he had found something faded and misplaced dangling from an old willow tree. When he had gotten close enough, he pulled it down and moved his hands along the edges of the dirty material. It was an old scarf, faded pink and dusty with the edges slightly frayed.

It smelt of vanilla.

Stepping over a fallen branch, Scabior came back to reality, waking from his thoughts. He guided himself across the branches and bushes, his gang of snatchers following closely behind. He continued moving silently up a sloping hill, until the sound of hushed voices in the distance broke through the silence. They lasted for a moment before being silenced, almost as if they had heard something as well.

He listened intently for it again, but could hear nothing over the sound of boots hitting the mushy ground. Extending his hand into the air in a way that told them to halt, the group of men suddenly slowed and stopped behind him.

"What is it, Scabior?" A man with dull blonde hair called from the back.

Scabior growled at the man to shut up and listen. The man did as he was told, just in time for another faint noise to fill the air. The other snatchers must have also heard it this time, because their faces all produced grins and they moved slightly closer.

Pointing down the hill for his men to follow, he moved swiftly along the small hill. He moved closer to where he could hear the voices, making sure to step silently. Twigs and branches crunched silently beneath the men's boots as the crept around trees and mud.

The men now all descended the hill, wands pointed readily as they searched for the source of the now silenced noises. Scabior was the first to see it, a small and dodgy tent placed in the midst of some trees, hidden from view. The side of the tent was propped open and there was slight movement inside. It seemed to him that the people had just arrived, as the tent was half set up and the small surrounding area was littered with some bags.

A noticeably louder voice alerted Scabior to the right, where he could see the slight silhouette' of a woman. He stopped and began to move to his right, carefully evading anything that could give him away if he was to step on it.

She was muttering, quietly but loud enough for the group to hear. She was beginning to cast protection spells over their tent, her bag still slung half over her shoulder.

She seemed to have just newly arrived, possibly only minutes before they had. Her back was to him, but he could make out the side of her face. She seemed to be of Hogwarts age, roughly. Her hair was brown and slightly bushy, seemingly untamed and messy.

Scabior threw a look over his shoulder to Greyback, who seemed to be getting into position. He nodded in agreement to Scabior's silent looks, grinning savagely. Scabior turned back around, his attention back onto the girl in front of him. A blue light was beginning to emit from the point of her wand as she held it up towards the trees opposite where he stood. Before the young witch could finish her spell, Greyback's voice rang through the air, startling her.

"Come out, we got ya surrounded!"

She didn't move, but her eyes were now very slowly scanning around her, prickled with worry, fear, and guilt. Her wand was gripped in her hand tightly and she seemed to be thinking over what her next move would be. He could see her fully now, her face turned in his direction. She was a pretty little thing, brown eyes and full lips, Scabior smirked, she was completely helpless.

The tent was absolutely silent, there was no sign of movement from the figures inside. Scabior could make out two dark shadows inside the tent, as he moved slightly closer a third shadow revealed itself.

"Come out or we'll 'ave to 'urt your friend out 'ere," Scabior shouted, wand pointed to the girl.

A few seconds had past but no one had come out, he was becoming slightly annoyed. The thought of grabbing the girl crossed his mind, but he decided to wait it out for a few more seconds before attacking. He wanted to see if they'd give themselves up first, if not, then the girl would be the first to go down.

He began to move closer, moving calmly and confidently towards the brunette. She was watching as the men came towards her, keeping her eyes trained mostly on their leader, who seemed to be the one with the power in the group. Her head slowly moved to the side, where she looked into the tent. A quick look of realization flashed in her eyes and there was a sudden movement in the tent.

It all seemed like it had happened in only the blink of an eye. A large bang went off and smoke filled the air before Scabior could even get close enough to grab the girl. Everything went foggy and Scabior could barely see anything in front of him. The surrounding area went up in a black smoke and the sounds of shoes hitting ground became clear. The men around him were all stumbling around the tent, coughing and wrenching as they breathed it in. Quick thinking on his part and he did a anti jinx, clearing the smoke away slowly.

"Snatch 'em!" Scabior yelled, watching the four figures that were racing away.

The snatchers spread out, running over fallen trees and jumping in-between winding ones. The four people had gotten a good head start but they were being gained on fast, having curses thrown at them from every direction. As he ran to keep up with them, he noticed that two of the people were boys. The brunette from earlier was running side by side with one of them, who seemed to have dark black hair. The other had bright orange and was obviously not as fast as the other two, as he seemed to be struggling to keep up.

Scabior searched for the fourth one as he continued speeding down hills and running over logs. He wanted to make sure no one got away, that they were all kept in sight. The bigger the bundle, the better the cash.

Then he saw the fourth person, a girl. She was running ahead of the others, sprinting and throwing quick glances over her shoulder at the three people she was with. It seemed obvious that she was trying to keep together, daring to look back every few seconds to make sure she hadn't lost them.

A snatcher threw a curse at the red headed boy and he fell to the floor, grunting loudly as he hit the ground. The dark haired boy suddenly stopped and ran towards him, gripping his wand and aiming towards where the spell had come from. It hit the snatcher with a flare of blue and he fell to the floor, disarmed and unconscious.

The two boys exchanged hurried glances, the dark headed one quickly pulled something from his pocket. The brunette had come to a stop a ways ahead of him, shouting over her shoulder. The other girl had also stopped, although she looked reluctant in her decision to do so. She shouted something to the brunette, who looked over at the two boys with a worried and fearsome expression before yelling something to them.

This all happened in a matter of seconds and by now the snatchers were descending on the two boys. The black haired boy pulled at his friend's chains, which had been enchanted to come off only by the producer of the spell. While he pulled at the chains, he fumbled with something in his hand, wrapped in fabric. He looked hesitantly at the object for a moment.

"Go!" The brunette yelled, before turning on her heel and running ahead, followed by the other female.

The group had now surrounded the boys, while some continued to run after the other two. In what seemed like a blur, the red head had grabbed onto the other's hand, which was holding onto the fabric that held some small object. It was now unwrapped in his palm, glistening as the two boys made contact with it in sync with each other. Then they were gone.

Scabior didn't stick around to see this, as he had been one of the few to take off after the girls. They were picking up speed now and advancing on the remaining pair. Their stopping earlier to quickly talk with the others had given the few snatchers that small gap that was enough to catch up and gain on them.

Jumping over a fallen log and landing back onto the ground with a thud, his heart began pounding against his chest and he could feel his breathing grow heavy. They had been running for a while now, everyone was having the same rushed breaths and loudly beating pulses. The girls had slowed down considerably, obviously growing tired of the chase. Scabior knew he would catch them now.

The pair seemed to be splitting up unknowingly, breaking apart as curses and trees got in their paths. They were throwing curses over their shoulders now, although they had yet to cause any damage to the three men rounding on them. The pretty brunette turned now, striking one of the snatchers with a puff of black smoke. Scabior took this chance to throw a curse towards her, catching her around the ankles.

She fell with a shriek and landed on the floor. The remaining girl hardly took notice as she sped through the trees, almost getting hit herself a couple of times. She randomly threw a curse behind her that had by pure luck, hit the snatcher trailing her. He fell to the floor and she continued to run, not looking back any more. Scabior was determined not to let any of them get away, so he ran past the chained girl on the floor, now chasing after the dark haired girl. The others would sort out the brunette, he'd have to grab this one.

She was fast, he'd give her that. But there was no way she was faster than he was. Jumping over another branch he shot a chaining curse at the girl, who dodged it as she ran amidst some trees. She stopped and spun around, throwing a curse right at him and praying it didn't miss. It did miss him and instead hit the tree behind him, making the tree snap and crack down the side, dipping to the right as it began to tip and fall slowly.

Scabior noticed that the curse she had used was that of dark magic, a curse he was quite familiar with. If that did happen to hit him, he might have ended up cut and bleeding out while waiting for his men to find him. Possible death curse. She obviously knew what she was doing.

He threw another chaining curse at her and this time it caught her around the ankles. With a thud she fell to the floor, struggling as she yanked at the chains around her ankles and wrists.

"Nice try, love," Scabior said.

Flipping onto her side, she outstretched her chained hands towards her wand in an attempt to pick it up. Scabior walked over to her, stepping on her already trapped arms so she couldn't get her wand into her hand properly. He rested his boot there, not painfully but enough to keep her hands steadied on the ground.

She looked up and glared at him, her eyes filling with frustration. Her hair was a mess slung around her face, sticking to her cheeks and prodding up at the sides. Her cold blue eyes were sending daggers at him as she tried to shake the mess of curls out of her face, while never moving her eyes away from his own.

He pulled her off of the ground, holding her wrists. She struggled and pulled, until he yanked her wrist back. She yelped in pain and stopped pulling, instead staring up defiantly at Scabior. He held her eye contact as she tightened her jaw, obviously annoyed.

Then suddenly, it came over him. He gripped her chin and pulled her face up towards him, moving his a little lower until they were nose to nose. He moved his hand onto the back of her neck, holding tightly as he took in the scent of her hair and neck.

Vanilla.

It was her, the girl who had been drifting through his thoughts for days. He looked her up and down, breathing her in. He watched as she turned away from him, refusing to look into his eyes now. Moving a hand towards her, he gently and slowly touched her cheek, smirking.

"I've been lookin' for you darlin'."


	4. The Hunter & the Hunted, Part III

**Title: Remember Me.**

**Chapter I: The Hunter & the Hunted, Part I**

**Rated: M for future chapters including; sex, some cussing, and some violence.**

**Disclaimer; I unfortunately own nothing from the HP universe. I don't own Scabior, which is even more unfortunate.**

_**Author's Note: **I am so sorry for updating later, I know I said I wouldn't. I have had a very rough last two weeks and just last week I lost someone very dear to me. As odd as it sounds, I had to put my pup to sleep and she was very, very dear to me. I've had her all my life. So please excuse this chapter's lateness. Please also excuse any mistakes, I wasn't much in the editing mood when I did this. _

**OoOoOoOooOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Scabior yanked her in closer to him and smelt her. It was her, it was definitely her. She shook her hair from her face, revealing oddly coloured eyes, fierce and piercing. They were dull grey orbs, but there was a slight patch of deep brown in the top her right eye. A certain undefinable sparkle in their depths.

She was a little younger than he had imagined, but still.

He smirked, leaning in towards her, his hands gripping either side of her shoulders. Her mouth twitched slightly and she turned her head, her hair flicking over her right shoulder. He brought his hand up to her face slowly, moving a stray hair out of her eyes and tangling his hand slightly in her hair, taking in her scent.

"Get off me!"

She pushed against him, fighting to escape his clutch_._ She tried again to overpower him, as if she believed she could. He snorted and yanked her back, looking over her with a look of mocking glance.

Having enough of her struggling, he gripped her wrists tightly. They'd bruise by the afternoon.

Her head jerked back and she furrowed her eyebrows, breathing in a jagged breath.

She continued her attempts to push him away, but he was far stronger than her and quite easily overpowered her. Her wrists felt frail beneath his grip and he thought vaguely on just how easily he would be able to break them, if he wanted to.

Her eyes weren't on him any more, she was closing them. It was only a moment before she opened them back up. She glared at him, an annoyed and fiery expression filling out her face. She was completely under his control.

He gave her a mock hurt expression, pulling his wand from his belt and moving it towards her legs. The chains around her ankles loosened, then fell to the floor. She looked up at him, her eyes wrinkling with confusion.

"Gonna walk back," he said simply.

"Not going to carry me?" She asked, snorting. "But you've been _such _a gentlemen so far."

Then, while he was pondering her words, she took the chance to kick her leg out in a desperate attempt to be freed. Her leg came in contact with his knee. He cursed in frustration as he felt his knee weaken slightly beneath him. She hadn't hit him hard enough to make any major marks, only enough to cause his leg a very split second of numbing pain.

So she _did _have fight in her. Interesting.

His hand shoot upward to her face and he gripped her jaw tightly. "If you don't start-"

He was cut off mid sentence as she once again pulled her leg out to connect with his. He released his grip on her wrists slightly, revealing a darkening mark of red circling her wrists.

Her kick was much more on spot than the last and a lot harder than the last, too. She took the chance of his reduced clutch to pull back, pushing all her weight against him, and swinging her leg into the same injured spot. It was a miracle he hadn't been able to grab her as she pulled away. It was a miracle she had even been able to injure him in the first place, however little it was.

Before she could even think about where she was going, she was running speedily down a slope, away from _him_.

She ran as fast as she could possibly go, her heart beating with every step. The possibility of getting caught was high, especially now she had no wand to fight back with, however, she was never one to give up without a fight. Be it her pride or survival instincts speaking.

As she ran, she could hear the snatcher's footsteps following hers. She flung herself behind the nearest tree and held her breath, hoping against hope he hadn't seen. Moving as far into the bark as she could, she waited to hear what the man's next move would be, eyes closed and breathing dulled.

"I'll give you to the count of three, then if ya 'aven't come out, we'll 'ave to do it the 'ard way," The words were low, even though they were being yelled-Threatening.

She moved in closer to the tree, careful not to make any noise at all. Her breathe was in heavy gasps and her eyes were closed.

She knew she couldn't out run him, that had already been proven, and she couldn't fight him since he had her wand. She was trapped between the harsh bark of the old tree, hoping that he would give up after a while or go looking in the wrong direction. She opened her eyes and pulled her head slightly around the corner, only enough so she could see the left side of her surroundings. She could see him looking for her, in every place. Sighing, she realized it was only a matter of time before he found her. She had no way out.

"One!"

She shut her eyes tightly, thinking.

_I could come out and give myself up, it's not like I have many options. Either run off and he'll catch me or stay here and he'll find me. I'll have a better chance giving up without injury, then making a run for it later, on better odds... I may be prideful but I'm not damn well stupid._

"Two!"

_I could make a run for it... Maybe..._

Without further thought, she pulled herself from the tree and began a sprint. All other thoughts blurred from her mind as she could only think of one thing; run.

"Thr..."

He spotted her before she had even been able to run a few paces. Bounding out from behind a willowy tree and sprinting across the forest, looking for a quick escape. He cocked his head to the side, scoffing. Did she really think she could get away? Just like that_?_

Being the absolute _gentlemen _that he was, he allowed her a moment's head start.

The moment, however, proved to be not enough. Scabior gave her a few seconds before pursuing her, in which time she hadn't gotten far. It took him half the time to have her back in his sight, clear as anything.

Sending yet another chaining curse to her ankles, it caught her easily and she toppled to the ground.

"Well _that _was stupid," he said, pausing and bending down towards her. "Wasn't it?"

His wand was in his palm, seemingly readied to use. He had an air of intimidation surrounding him as he slowly came forward, eyeing her over tauntingly.

She flinched as he snaked his hand near towards her face, making him laugh slightly. "Don't worry, I won't bite."

Seeing the smirk on his face made her nerves twitch as she tried to struggle free from her shackles. She thought suddenly that him smirking was almost as horrid as any face she could think of, as it proved that they both knew she was in a rather dead ended situation. He was obviously taking joy out of it, enjoying the site of realization dawning on her... she had been caught.

Lashing out in these situations never worked, she knew that, but it still didn't stop her from trying as she fell into a shocked state of kicking and punching. Her blows were nothing more then a nuisance to him. He had the height and weight advantage, she was stuck in his hold. It took her the better part of five minutes to stop her useless attack, as she breathed in a sigh of frustration.

In one heave, she was being lifted from the dirt and up onto her feet. He held tightly onto her wrists, keeping them behind her back as he pulled her forward. She thought for a moment about how strong he obviously was; being able to so effortlessly bring her upwards.

She didn't try to strike him again, instead worrying about her footing. In all honesty he was glad. He was growing tired of her silly attempts to break free. It was clear to them both that she was getting absolutely _nowhere._

"Get off," she tried again, pushing one hand against his stomach in a feeble attempt.

He pushed her forwards roughly. Frustrated at his arrogance, she pulled harder against her chains, and against him. He continued to watch her try to break free, a confident smirk playing on his face.

It wasn't much use, it was clear he wasn't letting her go any time soon. Still, she tried to use her captured hands to push and shove him away, while swinging her leg back in an attempt to kick his shin once again.

Continuing to refuse, she was too focused on Scabior to realize a snagged branch coming beneath her boots. It caught her leg and she fell on her side, the right of her arm aching as it made contact with the floor. Pain shot straight into her arm and she rolled onto her back, gripping it with her other hand.

Scabior had almost fallen with her, _would_ have if he hadn't lost his grip on her chains. Luckily for him, he had caught his footing and remained standing.

"What do you think you're doin'?" He asked, scowling.

She realized quite suddenly that she much preferred the shadow of his smirk. The way he looked at her now made her feel twitching, the glint of anger mixed with annoyed in his icy cold eyes. It made her uncomfortable looking back at him, seeing such an expression plastered on his face.

"I thought it was obvious," she stated, rubbing her arm and looking into his gaze.

They were both still for a moment, everything quiet. Then in a swift motion he caught her by the arm and yanked her to her feet. Obviously not very pleased with her, he pulled her hands back behind her back, this time much tighter than before. She held her tongue as she felt a yelp rise in her throat. The thought of looking weak around someone like him pushed her to hold her breath as he began to drag her forwards.

"If you don't start be'aving, you're gonna be in a lot of trouble," he growled.

As they walked back she continued to struggle with him, although much less then she had originally. She was aware that she must look childish lashing out in such ways, kicking and hitting into the air. It annoyed her that someone had put her in the position to feel this way, so helpless and silly.

When voices started to appear, she swallowed hard. She knew what would be coming next, and it frightened her greatly.

"Get off," she said, her voice laced with venom. "_Please."__  
_

"Gotta beg better than that," his voice was sarcastic and she rolled her eyes.

Scabior continued to pull her roughly in the direction of the large group of men. Her dim grey eyes moved along all the dirty faces of those standing before her, scanning for any familiar people. Relief washed over her as she saw not one of the trio she had been travelling with had been captured. However, it was shorted lived as it dawned on her that she was now completely and utterly alone with a pack of snatchers.

"Boss," a breathless man called, running towards Scabior. "We lost the other gal."

Scabior stood still for a moment, taking in what he had just said. The man seemed to shrink back, almost as if expecting his boss to curse him down on the spot for this information. Instead, he moved forward and pushed past the other man. He reluctantly handed the girl over to the snatcher next to him and cleared his throat.

The men were now moving over, starting to gather around their leader.

"And 'ow would one girl be able to escape from _five_ armed men?"

"She was armed too!" a twitchy young man said.

"Well that explains it then, don't it?" Scabior said sarcastically. He was fiddling with his ring again, breathing in and out slowly to keep his calm exterior.

"Think she apparated. Might 'ave splintched 'erself too, did it mighty fast. The lads 'ad somethin' to get away too, reckon it was a Portkey."

"Why weren't the anti-jinxes set up?" Scabior drawled, acid dripping from his words.

No one answered.

"What's the point..." Scabior started slowly, walking into the middle of the group. "...of runnin' 'round after people, if you can't even catch 'em."

His voice seemed calm enough, though his face seemed to be fuming with anger. He stopped suddenly, looking confused for a second before pointing at something.

"Who's that?"

"That's what I was going to tell ya," the same scared looking man said, stepping forward. "We didn't catch the gal but we found this one while we were waitin' for ya."

"Where?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at the man.

"We were walkin' back to where the gal had been and we heard a noise. Thought it was an animal till we saw him runnin' off. Must'a heard us and came to see what was goin' on. Stupid thing to do."

Scabior moved towards the boy, who appeared to be in his early twenties. He was handsome with mousy brown hair that was swept to the side and out of his bright green eyes. He stared at the ground, as if looking at something of great interest.

"What's your name then?" Scabior asked.

The boy looked up but said nothing. The snatcher holding onto his collar shook him roughly and he squeaked out something that no one seemed to catch. After another rough shake he stood up straighter and looked Scabior in the eye. He looked away after a moment, fear apparent in his eyes, and went back to staring at the ground.

"J-John," he mumbled. "Jonathan K-Kingston. I'm a... a Half-blood."

"Check it," Scabior said, moving away and towards his new found playmate. "And you... what do they call you, my lovely?"

"Pansy Parkinson... Pure-blood."

It took a moment before a snatcher had checked the man's name, revealing he was telling the truth. Unfortunately for him, he was a labelled blood traitor. The snatcher holding onto him sneered in disgust before spitting off to the side and tightening his grip. Scabior was too busy watching his black haired beauty to even worry about the shaking man to his left.

"She's lyin'. There's already a Pansy Parkinson attendin' Hogwarts, Scabior."

Scabior turned his kudo ring around his finger and studied it, thinking. He looked over at the girl, who was trying to look unaffected. After a moment she breathed in heavily, her eyes closing shortly. Caught out.

"It's wrong," she said. "I know who I am."

"That so?" He moved closer to her, speaking calmly. "We'll try again. What's your _real_ name?"

After a moment of silence, she looked up at him and nodded slowly. Then in a swift and undetected motion, she swung her leg backwards and made contact with the knee of the person behind her. He yelled as a loud and sickening crack hit the air, pushing her off of him and throwing her roughly to the floor. She hit the ground, her arms extended in front of her for support. Unfortunately she wasn't quick enough to block her head as it collided with a grimy stone, large enough to make a small split up her forehead.

"'Ey!" Scabior called. "Watch it!"

Groaning under her breath, she held onto her head. Something wet touched her finger tips and she brought it down to eye level, staring at the blood tripping off her palm and onto the floor. A surge of anger hit her as she saw the man behind her was now sticking his nose up at her proudly, as if happy that she was now bleeding.

"How dare you!" she yelled, her voice hoarse. "How dare you even touch me!'

Scabior walked over to her and grabbed her by the collar, pulling her up into a standing position. Blood was rushing down her face and trailing down onto her neck. She tried to wipe it away from her eyes, smearing it over her forehead and left cheek.

It occurred to Scabior that she looked familiar, without the blood stains running down her face anyway. He pulled her closer to inspect her features, to take in any details of her appearance that he thought he already knew... It didn't strike him.

"Last time," Scabior spoke, addressing her alone. His voice was calm- once again- and if she didn't know better she would say... apologetic. "What's your name, sweet'eart?"

"Wait..." Greyback said.

He moved closer to her, pushing past a snatcher and grabbing her chin. He held her face in his large hand, inspecting her. She tried to look away from him, keeping completely still and avoiding eye contact by closing her eyes tightly. Her face was etched with guilt and fear.

"I know you," he growled proudly before releasing her face and turning to Scabior. "She's a blood-traitor. Name's Black."


	5. Indifference, Part I

**Title: Remember Me.**

**Chapter I: Indifference Part I.**

**Rated: M for future chapters including; sex, some cussing, and some violence.**

**Disclaimer; I unfortunately own nothing from the HP universe. I don't own Scabior, which is even more unfortunate.**

**A/N:** _I'm thinking about stopping this, since I don't really have many readers at all and it's an outdated story. I keep adding chapters I wrote ages ago and just aren't up to scratch. If anyone is reading this, a review would be nice. Thanks~ Happy goings!_

**OoOoOoOooOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

"Black, as in Ebony Black?" Scabior asked, taking the girl's face in his hand.

"Ya. Can't believe I didn't see it before," Greyback was circling her, an unsaid threat looming in his voice. "Been on some wanted posters. Got a nice price on her pretty little head too, don't ya girly?"

Her face seemed to have broken somewhat, her blank expression riddled with fear and a large amount of guilt. She was staring at the ground and breathing in heavy breaths, trying to imagine any way out of this. She was smart, capable and cunning, but at this exact moment, she was just scared. Not of the band of snatchers surrounding her, but of _him... The Dark Lord._

"Ebony... what a beautiful name," Scabior told her.

She felt like no matter what he said, he was mocking her. She wasn't even sure if he was, but the gentleness of his touch and softness of his voice was anything but kind. He had once again come too close to comfort as he twirled a strand of her hair in his fingers, looking her face over closely. Ebony closed her eyes and kept them closed as she tried to avoid looking at him, or anyone for that matter. Her face was bowed to the floor, her head moving to the side to shake away his hands.

"Blood-traitor. Been travellin' with Potter and his friends 'bout 2 weeks now. Runaway. Ma'am Lestrange sent out a price on her name when she joined the other side. Betrayal it was," a snatcher holding a large pad of paper declared.

Scabior pulled his hand away from her and turned to face the man holding the notepad. He snatched it off him and began reading it himself, out loud. "Member of the Noble House of Black, disowned. Niece of Bellatrix Lestrange, disowned."

Ebony's jaw tightened as her aunt's name was called. She began thrashing against the man holding her, anger surging through her veins. Memories of the horrid woman flashed before her eyes and she felt sick to her stomach with rage. She couldn't be taken, she _wouldn't._

"Now, now, beautiful. Calm down."

"Ugh," she mumbled, pushing away from both men around her, feeling sickened.

She felt odd, having to be victimized by a bunch of men who were nothing but low riff raff in the Wizarding community. Although, she supposed she was to be considered even worse than these men now after running off and causing such a betrayal, staining her family name. The_ Noble_ House of Black was becoming more and more tainted by blood traitors, and even though Ebony herself tried not to care about blood status, she knew it meant a great deal in the community now. Life or death even.

Thinking back, she knew she had made a mistake joining her crazed aunt in this war. At the time it all seemed to make so much sense, it all seemed to piece together perfectly. Looking back from her experiences from the last year, a hard cold truth hit her. She had been wrong. Blood status, pure or not shouldn't be an excuse to kill. Her mother had once told her that. She said that there was only ever one way to excuse killing, and that was killing in the name of saving an innocent life.

She'd gone through life being told to hold hatred and nothing but disgust to all those who were different, who weren't as pure as she was. It was something that had been cemented into her from a young age. She was told who to associate with, how to act, who to be and how she should live her life.

"Change of plan, we're not takin' this lot to the ministry just yet."

Ebony looked up to see Scabior staring at her, watching her intently. Turning away from him, she caught the eyes of Fenrir Greyback. A shiver went down her spine as they locked eyes, she held the contact until he looked away, growling as another snatcher accidentally knocked his arm. She was always told that if you wanted to show power, you should never be the first to withdraw, especially with animals.

It was cold now, the evening was drawing close and Ebony shuddered, her creamy brown coat and tight black jeans not nearly warm enough for the current weather. She looked around frantically for a moment, suddenly aware that her small bag was no longer slung around her shoulders. It took her a moment to realize Scabior had taken it, along with her wand. She sighed in frustration.

"Back to camp," Scabior announced, grabbing hold of Ebony and pulling her away from his fellow snatcher. "C'mon."

With a loud crack, everything went blurry and began swirling. The forest turned into blackness and a tightness started to rise in Ebony's chest. She felt the familiar sensation of being forced through a rubber tube, then she felt the wind. Her eyes opened slowly and she stood, trying to keep herself upright.

She had always hated apparation. Never being the best at it herself. She remembered the first time she tried it she had splintched some of her hair off.

Suddenly aware of the draping hand over her waist, she pulled herself away slightly, huffing as pushed against Scabior. It didn't seem to bother him much, as he ignored her and continued to pull her roughly towards an area of vast trees and bushes. She looked around, trying to see if she was familiar with the area.

_I was here last week,_ the thought struck her suddenly. _I tied my scarf right over onto that willow..._

Her scarf.

_Oh._

It was draped around the neck of Scabior, who seemed to have dirtied and frayed it more than she had. She only just noticed it, that it was in fact the exact scarf she had been wearing days prior.

Before she could stop herself, she raised her eyebrow at him and spoke faintly. "Is that _my_ scarf?"

A smirk formed on his lips and he looked down at her, still pulling her forwards. "Did ya miss it?"

His earlier words suddenly hit her with much more meaning. _"I've been lookin' for you, darlin'."_

Stomping on his foot and kicking at his shins, she refused to walk as her legs became unmoving. He had been looking for her and it was her own stupid fault. She should have known better than to leave something like that out in the open. It seemed she was full of stupidity lately, something she frowned upon in others.

Up ahead she noticed a camp had appeared almost out of thin air. Obviously a protective charm had been cast on their tents, as it had been cast on hers for the last couple of weeks. They walked through what seemed like a light blue line of clear water, floating in thin air. The defences had been lowered so they could step inside and once they had all entered, a snatcher began muttering the spell to re-enforce it once again.

It was a small camp, although considerably larger than the one she had spent the last two weeks in. Her old camp had only one tent, which was enough to fit four people inside. Potter, Granger, Weasley and herself had all occupied it, and she'd often get into tiffs with Weasley, who seemed to always be in her way. Nerves were easily stepped on with the four of them, or at least when she was around.

Weasley had _hated_ her and often made a point to show his distrust for her. Granger didn't trust her either, always trying to keep her a step behind and out of the loop when she could. Potter had been quite the same, although oddly enough a lot more trust was thrown her way with him. Either way, she was still the outcast of the group.

There were several occasions when she had questioned her judgement of joining the trio. She knew them all from school, she'd been in quite a few of their classes in fact. Her knowledge of them was quite varied though, as she'd never taken the time to get to know any of them. She never associated with mudbloods or blood-traitors, mostly in fear of what her fellow Slytherins might think.

She didn't miss the irony.

She had_ become_ a blood-traitor now, something most wizards nowadays considered worse than being a Muggle or a Muggle-born. It was thought of as the worst thing a pure-blood like herself could do, turn her back on her own and stray away from purity. She was once told -by her father, whom had held a special hatred for blood traitors- that being a blood-traitor was like carrying a family heirloom and purposely breaking it. Wrecking something so beautiful and irreplaceable, a thing that once gone, you can never have back.

At her young age she had never understood those things her father would say to her. Horrible things concerning anyone lower in the chain of power and purity. She'd tend to ignore those things he said, in favour for those that her mother taught her. Even though her mother was bound by purity and lived her life by the rules of marriage, she'd never loved her father. No one in their family had.

Snapping out of her thoughts, she came back to reality as she felt Scabior tug the chains down on her arm.

"You listenin'?" Scabior asked.

"No," Ebony snapped, without even realizing what she had said, and most importantly _who_ she had said it to.

It only took a second for her body to be swung around, Scabior bringing her to face him. "'What did you say, sweet'eart?'"

In an instant his wand was at her neck, pressing into the delicate flesh. She swallowed, feeling the wooden tip pushing into her throat and feeling a slight pain in the area it was focused on. His voice; although calm as usual, held a threat and streak of anger as cold as his glare.

Silence.

"Scabior! C'mere!"

Saved by timing.

A rather ruff tug at her chains and she was being pulled in the direction of what looked to be a sitting area. There were logs and a few large fold-able chairs lined around a fire that had yet to be lit. Anyone who didn't know better would say it was quite a nice place to relax, apart from the men now littering around the area like flies.

"What?" Scabior asked the man who had just called to him, a slimy looking guy.

"Found this in his bag," the man pulled out three wands, all wooden and antique looking. "He's got about ten more in here, look!"

He proceed to pull more old looking wands from the captive's bag, each having it's own unique twist of wood or hint of difference. After he had them all out, he began pulling cans of food, bottled up waters and clothes from the small carrier bag. The man, Jonathan; which she remembered to be his name, had an extendible charm on his bag. Just like she did.

She realized they would soon be doing the same to her possessions, ruffling through her own bag. There wasn't much in there, certainly nothing of value. She hadn't had the time to pack before she had left and ended up with nothing but her wand and the clothes on her back. Luckily for her Hermione had spare clothes and although they had been a tight fit, she was grateful she had something until she could get her own.

There was a sudden pang of guilt as Ebony thought of Hermione's kind offer of clothes. More guilt floated to the surface as she began thinking of how they had _all_ done at least one kindness for her, despite the hell she had once put them through. Her constant mocking and teasing in first grade, her looks of disgust five years after; when she had returned to Hogwarts for her sixth year. Sixth year was the worst offender, especially for Potter, whom she had been especially sour to. Horrid looks and nasty words for exchanged on more than one occasion.

The guilt slowly faded into the back of her mind as she began thinking on those very exchanges between her and Potter. Exchanges in which both parties had been guilty of a rude gesture or particularly nasty word. _Both._

"What's all this then?" someone asked Johnathan, who had his head bowed again.

"S-Stuff," he replied shortly.

"We can see that," Scabior began. He was staring at Jonathan, his head tilted to the side. "But what sorta stuff?"

It was clear that he was talking about the many wands scattered in John's pack, but either by stupidity, nerves, or something else, he replied with "M-My clothes... some water so I don't d-dehydrate... some canned food because-"

"The wands!" Scabior cut him off.

"W-Wands... well..." Jonathan paused. "I... s-stole them."

"Huh..." Scabior said _seeming_ disinterested, and twirling a twisted looking wand in-between his fingers. "Where?"

"D-Different places... p-please..."

"He asked where," the slimy looking man said, hovering next to John. "What places, eh?"

To Ebony's surprise Johnathan kept quiet. A few moments passed and he was still facing the ground; his face an odd shade of red.

"Sohl," Scabior motioned the man named Sohl to step forward. He was older, with rugged features and dirty clothes. "Take Johnny here to one of the tents and see if he's more talkative there."

Jonathan finally looked up and Ebony noticed his eyes brimming with tears. The red blotches on his face matched the colour of his venetian red jacket, and his reddening eyes only added to the disturbing match.

She watched as he was marched off into a near tent, off to the right. She quickly wondered if she would soon be in one of the surrounding tents, getting prodded for information. She almost snorted at her stupidity. Of course she would.

There were only seven men that she could see now, seeing as how "Sohl" had just left with their unfortunate guest. She held her breath and wondered what he was doing to Jonathan, most probably torturing him for answers. It struck her that she would soon be taken inside and tortured too.

She wondered briefly if it would be Scabior who interrogated her. He most probably would, he seemed to have taken an interest in her already.

_Wonderful._


End file.
